


Oh, Bloody Hell

by marionclarke



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Multi, Professor Draco Malfoy, Professor Neville Longbottom, Werewolf James Sirius Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-01-23 04:53:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18542662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marionclarke/pseuds/marionclarke
Summary: Seventh year for Alice Longbottom was supposed to be great. Clever, a prefect, Head Girl - that was all she wanted. But now that her mum's dead and her ex-boyfriend's broken up with her, she isn't as elated about what she's achieved.Then a party at the start of summer leads to her and a former childhood friend, James Sirius Potter, revealing a few too many things about themselves - as well as their bodies - in a drunken, too-quick night.Starting seventh year with loads of history and baggage? Check.This is going to be a 'bloody hell' of a seventh year.





	1. Last Day of Sixth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the last day of sixth year, Dominique Weasley supposedly invites one of Alice's friends to her party at Shell Cottage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, fellow readers! :-)
> 
> i'll keep it short:  
> one, i'm marion and i try to write.  
> two, this is a story between james and alice that's been on my mind for a while.  
> three, feel free to leave any feedback or criticism -- then again, i hope you enjoy.
> 
> now i'll stop my yammering and let you get on with the first chapter.

It was the last day of school—the last day of sixth year for Alice Longbottom, who would be Head Girl the next.

In the arched alcove of the Ravenclaw common room was the library section, tranquil and lined with shelves of Muggle and wizard literature. With the large, blue-curtained window facing the Quidditch pitch, it was clear this area was made the library section for its brilliant lighting, though the Ravenclaw common room in its entirety was notorious for being the airiest. Reading her copy of _Mrs Dalloway_ in the alcove was Alice Longbottom looking very thoughtful, her dark-gold hair shimmering gracefully under the lights as she chewed anxiously on a nail. 

'Anxiously.' Didn't seem like a very Gryffindor trait, did it? It was no wonder Alice was put into Ravenclaw—well, it was no wonder _now_.

In the beginning, people didn't expect Alice to be Sorted into Ravenclaw. Newspapers and radios always expected Alice to be one of the rest—a Gryffindor like her father, Professor Longbottom, whose achievements and bravery during the last Wizarding War seemed to secure her a spot in Gryffindor. Or at least to be like her Healer mum, Hannah Abbott, sweet enough to be in Hufflepuff. The Sorting Hat seemed to have a mind of its own though—don't mind the pun—and put Alice in Ravenclaw, the house of wit, intelligence and creativity.

Wit. Alice did have quite a sharp tongue, she realised after being Sorted, and the books she liked she did read fast (though her pickiness and criticism limited these kinds of books).

Disturbing her reading and thoughts was Nora Johnson, one of her dorm-mates, who had thrown a History of Magic textbook onto the spot next to Alice's with a thud. She sat down, turned to a random page and sighed before reading swiftly over the words,  evidently pretending to study. Every so often she would cast a glance at her friend Alice as though wanting to say something, but turn her head back down to her book.

Alice noticed this. And if she weren't reading such a good book, she would've interrupted Nora's melodramatic melancholy with a quick "What's wrong?" and let the girl spill what she wanted to say. However, this was _Mrs Dalloway_ —a legendary book by Virginia Woolf which Alice had heard positivity about for weeks on end from Lysander—and she didn't want to miss the momentum of a single scene.

Nora groaned, pushing her textbook to the side, and frowning. "I can't believe reading is the only way to get your attention. And on the last day of school?"

Alice sighed. She looked up from her book reluctantly to see Nora staring at her expectantly. "What is it? What's going on?" 

Nora beamed. “Dominique Weasley is hosting a party at Shell Cottage on Friday," she rushed.

“And you want to go, do you?” Alice asked, unease brushing over her delicate features.

Nora groaned again. “Look, I know you’re going to say no if I ask so I'll say this: you _don’t_ have to go with me.”

“Thank y—”

“But she invited me herself, you know?” interrupted Nora quickly, and Alice realised she was trying to guilt-trip her. Reverse psychology, so to say. “ _Dominique herself_ ,” Nora repeated slower, her head nodding along to the words as though they were entirely decision-changing. It seemed to be for everyone else.

The host of this party, Dominique Weasley, was the former Head Girl Victoire Weasley's younger sibling. Outgoing and beautiful, her sister was popular and beloved around Hogwarts by both teachers for her ambition and peers for her alluring Veela traits. Everybody seemed to expect the same from Dominique, the quick-witted, cynical Quidditch commentator who was rumoured to be trying for Beater in the upcoming year—a role no girl on the Ravenclaw team had made in over 70 years. She was pretty, but daring, tomboyish and distant; she hung out with the Potter-Weasley clan—the famed large family of Potters, Weasleys and Grangers—but kept to herself otherwise. In fact, she'd been in Alice's dormitory ever since first year but hadn't conversed for longer than a minute with any of the girls there.

Looking out the window to her left, Alice saw Dominique on the Quidditch pitch. She feigned her surprise as she cried sarcastically, “ _That_ Dominique invited you to _her_ party? She invited _you_ herself?”

Nora beamed, thinking Alice was tempted. “Yes! And I’m absolutely sure she’d want you to be there too!”

“I would hope so. She’s been using my toothpaste since first year,” said Alice sarcastically.

Nora’s eyes widened. “Oh, seriously?”

“No, not seriously,” Alice chuckled, looking back down at her book. But she was serious. Dead serious. There was reason why she kept an extra stash of toothpaste in the bathroom, albeit she was called a clean freak because of it. “Does Dominique’s approval mean that much to you?”

“Of course!” cried Nora. “Dominique Weasley is the epitome of cool. Not only is she one of the Potter-Weasleys but she’s distant, smart. Popular.”

“I always got the impression you didn’t like her.”

“That’s not true. I don’t mind her. It’s Lila that’s got a thing against her, the moody cow. Then again Lila’s got a thing against everyone."

Lila was one of Alice's and Nora's dorm-mates. Although she dressed spectacularly well and aced many of her tests, she had a certain haughty air to her that Alice was to afraid to threaten. She criticised everyone for being tacky or fake, though Alice found her candor quite amusing to listen to at times—especially when it involved her talking about how stupid James Sirius Potter was. Mind you, Lila was James's first girlfriend and very clearly still 'in love' with him.

"Moving on," continued Nora, still giddy. "Dominique inviting us—”

“You,” Alice corrected.

“— _Dominique inviting us_ to the party means she considers us as one of her. And she’s the type of girl that nobody realises is popular yet but will be soon, you know? So if this party goes well and everybody realises how cool she is, we’ll be the cool ones too!”

Alice let a smile peek. “I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not. You know, with that whole bubbly, shallow, ‘I want to be cool!’ thing.”

Nora cracked a grin too. “I mean, the way I’m telling you this is, yes, making fun of girls who are that blatantly shallow. However,” she continued proudly, “I do mean it, Alice. I want to make our seventh year count, you know? Well, maybe you don’t know.” Then, with bitterness Alice couldn’t tell was feigned or not, Nora added, “Not all of us can make it to Head Girl like you.”

Alice looked back up from her book, her brows furrowed slightly. “Hey.”

Seeing her serious expression, Nora spurted into fits of laughter. “Sorry, I realise that came out really bitchy. Now,” she said, clasping her hands together and looking up at Alice with puppy-dog eyes, “will you be my date to the party? Please, Alice Francesca Longbottom?”

Alice’s eyes softened to a molten gold-brown. “Can’t you go without me?”

“I’m too scared to go by myself,” Nora explained immediately. Seeing Alice’s sceptical look, she sighed. “Come on, Alice! D’you really want to be known as the Head Girl who was depressed and lonely the entire year just because some dickhead Zabini broke up with her? The start of summer is the best time to start your recovery!"

“It was a _mutual_ breakup. And Ian’s not a dickhead. He was just—”

“Crazy? Absolutely mad?”

“Maybe slightly…indignant.”

 

_“What? But why? I thought we loved each other!” yelled Ian Zabini._

_“Did we?” Alice asked, too softly, too vulnerably. “Or are we faking this to prove something?”_

_Ian groaned. “I’ll admit, recently, it’s been a bit like that. But before—”_

_“I know about her, Ian.”_

_The words were heavy._

_“I’m sorry,” Ian said after a while, but the fires burning in his eyes told otherwise. He readjusted his tie, turned on his foot and stormed out the door. Alice overheard him yell ‘Get the fuck out of my face!’ to an innocent third-year girl patrolling the corridor, watched him glare daggers at a slightly amused Nora._

 

“Yeah. Indignant,” scoffed Nora, her eyes lighting up with similar amusement to that day.

Alice looked back down at the book, hoping she’d changed the subject and Nora had forgotten—that was until _Mrs Dalloway_ had been snatched right out of her hands.

“Stop reading! Honestly, it's the last day! And give me an answer!”

“You’re not going to stop until I say yes, are you?”

“I know it’s insensitive. I know that I shouldn’t be pushing you. But it would really mean a lot to me.”

Alice looked at her for a long while. Nora’s pale eyes were desperate, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. “When’s the party?” she breathed, pulling a smile across her face.

 

 ⇊-⇊-⇊

 

“Merlin,” murmured Alice, meaning it entirely.

She slowly took in her surroundings, from the cliff-view of the broad, orange- and violet-swirled sky and reflective, glossy ocean water to the pale-gold sand that stretched for miles. The tranquil lapping of waves filled the silence, the cool, salty ocean breeze sending a chill down Alice’s spine.

It was isolated, apart from a cottage—Shell Cottage; it had to have been—which sat gazing over the cliff. There was nobody to be seen.

Alice followed Nora into the cottage, still admiring the scenery, until the door opened and—

That’s when the music hit, loud, bouncing off the walls and bass-driven. Alice wondered what kind of magic kept the music from escaping the house. She even wondered if someone had casted a spell to keep the house together and on the ground, considering the heart-racing, fast-paced dance moves displayed. The house no longer seemed so small, looking like a club of sorts from the crowded dance floor to the multi-coloured lasers shooting from the large disco ball.

Alice tripped slightly as she followed Nora through the house, her small frame bouncing vulnerably to the booming bass. She put her hand to the wall to keep her balance, feeling the shape of a shell. It was then that she realised the entire room, every wall, had been tiled and speckled with shells, reflecting the neon lasers shooting from the large disco ball above the dance floor. The one she’d touched was shaped like a heart and signed ‘DOM’S’ in crazy handwriting.

Nora, now much further ahead, looked over her shoulder and gave Alice a strange look before motioning for her to come over with her hand. Alice complied, landing in a seemingly ordinary kitchen—well, ordinary compared to the rest of the house’s interior at that time. It matched the ambiance of the tranquil cliff-view setting, the walls decked in shells, pans, forks, spoons and large greenhouse-like windows, although the wide stone countertop was littered with everything from Firewhisky to Butterbeer to Wizard’s Whiskey to Muggle shots.

Alice’s eyes wandered over the large selection on the table. She’d never seen so much food and drink in one place apart from the Start-of-Term Feast and Honeydukes.

Thankfully she saw a collection of Cauldron Cakes and smuggled two, along with a fat, caramel-dipped Chocoball.

Alice ate the caramel-coated Chocoball, the creamy strawberry filling and salted chocolate heavenly to her taste buds. She ignored the bitter tang that forced her eyes shut for a moment and opened them feeling exhilarated. She ate one Cauldron Cake within seconds after, the flavours almost forcing a moan from her mouth.

Alice was sure the wandering eyes of the creeps in the back would’ve loved that.

Nora watched Alice out of the corner of eye with a smirk as though she knew something she didn’t. Alice saw the knowing look, but didn’t press it. She knew Nora was self-conscious about her body and might’ve been criticising her for taking so many sweets at once.

Alice didn’t care. Her dad Neville Longbottom never let her have many sweets apart from on special occasions like her birthday, someone else’s birthday or Christmas. He encouraged his daughter to pick the healthier option, though Alice knew he secretly splurged on chocolate when nobody was looking. When she was about five, she’d stumbled into his room at The Leaky Cauldron only to find a draw in the bedside table full of Chocolate Frogs. Neville tried to hide them from her mum, Hannah, a very sensitive and specific nurse who always enforced healthy-eating.

Alice gazed at the second Cauldron Cake for a long time.

She supposed her dad wouldn’t have to worry about her mother finding out anymore.

“Alice?”

“Sorry—yes?” spluttered Alice, putting the Cauldron Cake back down on the countertop.

Nora smirked, reaching her hand out for Alice to take. “Wanna dance?”

Glancing just behind Nora, Alice spotted him at the back of the room: Ian Zabini, his face perfectly chiselled and jawline prominent as he tilted his head to look at the tall brunette next to him. His dark eyes gazed at her deeply, the same way he used to gaze at Alice, and he licked his lips tantalisingly. They were particularly close to each other—so close that if either moved the slightest inch—

Alice’s eyes dimmed.

Nora pulled her aching arm back down to her side, giving Alice a look. She swivelled her head around to where Alice was staring and her blue eyes widened. “That fucking bastard,” she swore, glaring at the scene of Ian’s tongue in another girl’s mouth. She looked back at Alice. “Well,” she started awkwardly, giving Alice the pity look she’d always hated, “there’s no reason to hold back anymore, right?”

That was the first time Alice had agreed with her whole-heartedly in a while.

“You’re right,” she breathed, feeling less vulnerable than before. Breathing in deeply, Alice straightened her back and let a smile etch onto her face. She slowly peeled off her denim jacket, revealing the beautiful, rose-gold satin dress Nora had lent her, purposely ignoring the plastered boys in the back staring at her. There was a wolf whistle, and even Nora was staring at her curves.

Alice reached her hand out to Nora again, this time confidence radiating from her. “Wanna dance, date?”

Nora laughed before taking her hand. “Yes, my love,” she purred mockingly, and dragged Alice onto the dance floor.

 


	2. Potter of the Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leaving the party for a break, Alice meets a familiar face, reveals a few things to said person and does something only her tipsy self would.

The music only got louder.

Alice had been dancing for what felt like hours, though she wasn’t keeping track with a watch.

However long Alice had been on the dance floor for, she could feel the stares of a few boys around her. One had even tried to intrude on her dancing session with Nora, to which she obliged only after taking a glimpse at the burning eyes of her ex-boyfriend.

Ian Zabini was being driven crazy and—as childish as it was to think—he deserved it. For snogging another girl heavily only a month after their breakup. For deciding not to be respectful and acting like a jerk after Alice’s mum had di—

“Getting tired?” yelled Nora. She seemed over-the-moon, her wild blue eyes glazed from the Firewhisky as she bounced continuously along to the music. Her moves were becoming sloppier, but she kept on going—something Alice admired more than anything.

“A bit,” Alice yelled back. “I think I’m going to have a rest.”

Nora just nodded, though Alice supposed it could’ve been along to the music. She didn’t say anything else, so Alice left her to dance. A boy took her spot, placing his hands dangerously low on her hips, but Nora seemed delighted, still swaying along to the music.

Taking another fat, tangy Chocoball on her way out, Alice wandered out of the cottage. The loud, overwhelming music was replaced by waves slipping over the shore and the flirtatious whispering and giggling of people nearby.

Turning her head, Alice realised she wasn’t the only one who was tired of the loud party. Other people had retreated, now sitting and laughing on the stone floors right outside the cottage and chatting with alcoholic drinks in hand. They sat in groups, barely anyone on the sand—perhaps in fear of getting their clothes dirty, which wasn’t an entirely stupid reason considering the types of clothes wizard teens wore nowadays.

Fashion had since turned more Muggle ever since Aurora Billings, a proud half-blood, started a fashion line of teen clothing consisting of over-sized hoodies and skinny jeans. There was also Margarine Anne, a talented pureblood witch who took an interest in the formal wear of Muggle society, and started to dress only the most rich. She made beautiful gowns and dresses and suits—the types of things you’d wear to a Muggle Prom.

Alice, not wanting to get Nora’s satin dress sand-speckled, set her own jacket on the sand at the edge of the cliff. She sat down, pulled her knees up and gazed over the ocean, her eyes running over the gold-flecked obsidian sky.

“Allie.”

Alice blinked, turning to the voice. She hadn’t heard that name in a very, very long time. And what did she see?

James Sirius Potter, eldest son of Harry Potter, Quidditch star, soon-to-be-Head Boy, professional prankster, mischievous player and one of Alice’s ex-best-friends. Or so she thought.

James’s hazel eyes looked back at her slightly furrowed but glinting amused. “What are you doing here?”

“My friend Nora asked me to come.”

“Did she?” said James, a smirk playing on his lips. Her eyes on them lingered. “Or did you come to see me?”

Alice snorted, looking away and smiling timidly. “As arrogant as always, Potter.”

“Hmmm,” James hummed, setting himself down on the sand next to her.

Her focus shifted from the cliff-view to the boy next to her. What could she say? She was curious. They hadn’t spoken to each other since first-year and only acknowledged each other in the few classes Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had together.

She supposed James looked good, his sleeves rolled back, revealing the muscles he’d honed after years of Quidditch, his dark hair the bed headed mess that seemed to work for him and his strange eyes darting between pale-green and chestnut. From this angle, Alice noticed the strength of his jawline, the way he’d slimmed in the face and the way he’d gained muscle in his once thinly stretched arms and legs.

James caught her eye and gave a lop-sided, cocky smirk. “What you looking at?”

Alice couldn’t help herself; she flushed pink from her ears to her nose. “It’s just,” she started, forcing her attention on the ocean, “you’ve changed.”

“Should I thank you for that?”

“Only if you’re polite. Which you aren’t, so I suppose you don’t have to.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, ‘You’ve changed’?”

“Oh, you know.”

“Do I?” Something glittered in his eyes as his smirk widened.

Alice let out a short laugh. “Yes, you arrogant bastard,” she said. “Yes, you do know.”

“Are you calling me better-looking? Handsome, even?”

“Well, since you brought it up, I’d say you’re saying it. Not me.”

“All right, all right,” chuckled James. “You’ve changed too though, Allie.”

“Which means?”

“I don’t know. You won’t tell me so I won’t tell you.”

“Fine,” said Alice. “You are better-looking. But so is everybody when they’re past the age of eleven, so don’t let that go to your head.”

“You know," whispered James, leaning in for a moment, "you’re pretty hot too, Allie.”

“‘Too’? I never called you hot.”

“Hmm, but you meant it.”

“Wha—”

“I’m kidding,” he chuckled. “Now just take the compliment, will you?”

“Thanks.”

“That sounded sarcastic. I see not too much has changed then.”

“Ditto, you arrogant arse.”

“I’m not being facetious when I say this,” James started, “but thank you, Allie. For telling me how you honestly feel about my arse.”

Alice rolled her eyes, the soft smile still on her face. “I haven’t been called that in such a long time,” she remarked after a while.

James raised a brow. “Been called what?”

“Allie.”

“What? You liar,” he snapped. “I’ve called you that like three times already and it's been—what—five, ten minutes?"

Alice laughed. “I suppose you’re right. What a genius.”

“I know.” James’s eyes lingered on her face longer than they should’ve and Alice covered her shoulders in response, feeling slightly self-conscious. It was stupid; she shouldn’t have felt that way just because a boy was looking at her. After all, she was fine on the dance floor before! Why wasn’t she okay now? “You should put your jacket on.”

“What?” Alice spluttered.

“Jacket—put it on. It gets colder as the night goes on.”

“Uh, okay.” Alice put her jacket on, feeling warmer instantly. Suddenly she hated satin. “So, I heard something about you.”

It might’ve been her imagination, but James stiffened for a moment. “Which is?”

“You're Head Boy now,” said Alice quietly. "McGonagall told me the other day. To say the least, I was...surprised."

“Me too,” muttered James, taking another swig of Firewhisky.

Alice looked away from him, taking the silence as a chance to take a bite out of her Chocoball. The same strange bitter, tangy taste filled her taste buds; this was no ordinary Chocoball.

“You know, I heard something about you too,” James said softly.

“Which is?” Alice mocked.

“...Your mum,” he started carefully.

“Is this why you decided to sit with me?” Alice snapped.

“Only partly,” James said quickly. “Look, I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’m sorry. I just wanted to check to see if you’re okay.”

“I’m okay, James. Tell your dad or whoever sent you the same thing.” Alice shoved the rest of the Chocoball into her mouth, closing her eyes at the impact and opening them up with the spirit to forget. She was feeling more and more lightheaded and tipsy as the night wore on.

James looked at her for a long time. “Nobody sent me, Allie,” he said softly. “I just care about you.”

Alice threw her head back in facetious laughter. “You haven’t spoken to me in six years.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

“It sort of does! You don’t just leave the people you care about!” cried Alice indignantly. The words came out harsher than she’d meant. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to force the tears back in. She wasn’t going to be a cry-baby, not like before. She didn’t want the pity looks or the half-hearted questions—especially not from James.

“I know you don’t want to hear me apologise,” whispered James. “But...I remember the times your mum yelled at me in my first year. The amount of times I overplayed at my first Quidditch practices…Merlin, I was sure she hated me for coming back with an injury every week.”

“She didn’t hate you," grumbled Alice.

“I know. She just cared about me,” said James. “Comes to show how, even if people don’t show it, they can still care about you. Even if these people haven’t really talked to you to you since first year”—he was evidently talking about himself—“and even if these people…leave.”

James was still looking up at the sky pensively, as if searching for something.

Alice sighed."I know," she said softly. “It’s pathetic of me to be all ‘My mum’s dead and she doesn’t care about me!’ and pull you into it. You don't deserve that. I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I’m the one that stopped talking to you in first year.”

Alice sighed. “Don’t be. I stopped too.”

“Great. Thanks for taking the blame,” joked James. Alice rolled her eyes, a smile playing on her lips, and nudged his shoulder. He must’ve been pretty tipsy as he almost fell to the side. Then again, that could've been her swaying in to the side too.

“Hey, where’s Dominique? I’m at her party and I haven’t even said hello to her."

James laughed shortly. “She went upstairs with Ravenwell a few hours ago.”

Alice blinked. “Raymond Ravenwell? Slytherin Quidditch Captain?”

“That’s the one,” said James begrudgingly as he took another swig of Firewhisky. He didn't seem to like the idea of his cousin, Dominique "Dom" Weasley, being with the Slytherin Quidditch Captain.

“Oh,” was all Alice said.

There had always been beef between the Quidditch captains of the Houses. Years of rivalry still remained between Gryffindor and Slytherin and the wizard’s sport Quidditch was the most competitive of all. The Slytherin Quidditch Captain, Raymond Ravenwell, was notorious for being the sneakiest out of all and too had a deep hatred for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, led by James.

“You see that?” came from James.

Alice looked up at him to see him looking up at the sky. She followed.

“The stars?”

“Look at that one,” James continued, pointing at the star evidently the brightest in the sky. He leaned into Alice, and she could faintly smell his cologne. “That’s Sirius," he explained.

“Sirius,” Alice reiterated, shaking her thoughts of James’s body so close to hers.

There were three things Alice knew about the word and name Sirius. One, it had some sort of astronomical meaning that Alice wasn’t aware of, even being a Ravenclaw, because she hated Astronomy. Two, Sirius Black was an antihero turned hero she’d learnt about in History of Magic. Three, the same Sirius was Harry Potter’s—James’s famed father’s— godfather and it became James’s middle name in his memory.

“Hey, James?" slurred Alice, feeling even more lightheaded. James turned to her. "What sort of strawberry mousse was in that Chocoball?”

James's eyes widened and he laughed, “Fucking hell."

"What?"

"You ate the Chocoballs on the Firewhisky table?

“They were caramel-coated!" whined Alice.

James couldn't seem to help it; he burst out laughing. "Fucking hell, Allie, those have got a shit ton of Firewhisky in them. There's a reason why nobody's taken any. They're stronger than everything on that table."

"Oh, shit, really?" Alice swore, covering her mouth as if it would help.

James laughed again. Oh, his laugh. The way that hot, husky noise came from between those sexy, kissable lips. Fuck, fuck, fuck, was Alice really thinking that right now? And oh fuck, she was swearing like hell. What kind of Head Girl thought things like that?

"It's all right," said James, smirking once more. He leaned in closer to Alice and whispered, "I've had three bottles of Firewhisky tonight."

Alice could only think of the way his breath tingled her ear. She turned her head slightly so their lips were only inches apart. "Really?" was all she said, not entirely sure if she was referring to how much he could drink or the way his eyes glimmered under the moonlight. There was something predatory in them; lustful.

And if Alice didn't know any better, there was something along those lines in her eyes too.

James's eyes widened for a moment and he pulled away, interrupted their moment.

Alice coughed, looking back down at her feet. She shuffled them in the sand, enjoying the feeling of softness coating her foot.

The night was indeed getting colder, the ocean breeze coating her body just as much as the caramel—or not caramel—coated her Chocoball. Watching the way James's jawline straightened as he looked out at the ocean warmed her up just enough.

An impure thought crossed Alice's mind but she didn't have the strength nor morals to push it away. And being the impulsive mess she was that night, she started, "Hey, James?"

"Hmm?"

"Why don't you have sex with anyone from school?"

It was well-known around the school that James didn't have sex with anyone that went to Hogwarts, in spite of his good looks and reputation as Harry Potter's son. In fact, he hardly ever abused his position as The Boy Who Lived's son, much like his siblings—then again, that wasn't to say he was humble. He was quite the opposite. But you'd think if the hottest girl in school begged you to sleep with her, you'd say yes though, no matter whose son you are. But James? Maybe it was a new level of arrogance, but he rejected her flat-out every single time and never explained why. Every relationship he had lasted until the girl (or boy) wanted to have sex.

James turned his head to look at her. "Why are you asking?"

"I don't know. Curious. So's  _Witch Weekly_."

James chuckled. "You read that stuff?"

"No," countered Alice, "but I live in a dorm of gossipy readers."

"Speaking of the girls in your dorm, does Lila still, you know?"

"Like you? Ha—of course," replied Alice.

James looked surprised at the direct answer, but shook his head nonetheless. "Could you tell her something for me?"

"I'm not an owl. Besides, I don't want to be the one to give her the bad news. 'Sorry, Lila, James is too busy not letting himself get too far with any girl—and that includes you, no matter how special you think you are for being his first girlfriend.'"

"Is that what you think of me? That I'm so arrogant that no girl is good enough for me?"

"Do you want the truth or the lie?"

"Lie."

"No, that's not what I think of you."

James sighed. "There's a reason why I break up with girls before sex, you know."

"Let me guess: it's a justifiable reason which dates back to the day you were born and you're secretly this mysterious, kind-hearted guy," Alice said sarcastically, a smile on her face.

"I wish I was that much like a book character."

"How would you know what a book character's like? You don't read."

"Fair enough," James chuckled.

Silence permeated the area. The people who were chatting and giggling just outside of the cottage before had fallen asleep, the rest most likely still partying hard on the inside of the house. It was just the two of them, admiring the cliff-view side-by-side.

Alice shivered. It was getting colder with every minute.

James's eyes lingered on Alice for a long, long time, that pensive look on his face again. It was like he was debating something about her. "Do you really want to know why I don't get close to girls like that, Allie?"

Alice turned her head, staring at him too, from his unruly hair to his contrastingly serious expression. "Are you okay with telling me?"

"As long as you keep it between us Heads."

Alice nodded.

Then James started to unbutton his shirt. One button by one, his chest started to reveal—full of muscles and with a tan. Alice didn't know he spent that much time in the sun. Well, he did do Quidditch—

Hold on.

Alice's eyes widened, realising how James was stripping in front of her. Was this the reason he wouldn't get close to other girls? Because he wanted to get close to Alice?

"Hey, hey, James, I think you're getting the wrong idea—"

But then she saw it. Right in the middle of his chest: a long scar. It stretched from the top of his abdomen to the bottom, a long tear in his skin as though ran through by a thick claw.

"James are you a...?"

James nodded.

" _You're a werewolf_?" boomed Alice, a little too loudly.

"Don't tell everyone."

Thankfully everyone was asleep.

Alice whispered, "I'm sorry. That was really loud. But, James, how? And for how long? Have you told anyone?"

"You're the only one I've told," James whispered back. "It happened five months ago."

"That's five full moons," remarked Alice. Her childhood friend was a werewolf and he'd been hiding it for five full moons. He had been portrayed as this arrogant, laidback prankster—completely misleading compared to the information Alice now knew about him. She supposed he was a prankster; it was no wonder how good he was at hiding—away from trouble and from showing how he was a werewolf, but still! What kind of person could hide five painful transformations away from his family and friends? Especially with the size of James's family. Softer, Alice asked, "Who turned you?"

James's shoulders stiffened. "Not sure," he said after a while. He wouldn't meet Alice's eyes.

He was lying.

"But—"

"Allie," the boy growled, tilting his head so their eyes met. His were furrowed, more serious than Alice had ever seen them. "Drop it."

How was she supposed to drop something like that?

"Fine," said Alice. "Can I ask how you've been hiding it?"

"Wolfsbane keeps me better under control on full moon nights—"

"Wolfsbane? Where do you get Wolfsbane from?"

"I brew it."

Not even the smartest, prat-like Ravenclaws in Alice's dorm could brew a complex potion like Wolfsbane.

"Where do you go?"

James smiled cheekily. "I can't tell you that or you might come. And that's dangerous, Allie."

"Which is why you shouldn't be doing this all by yourself."

James's smile dropped. "Don't tell anyone."

"Why not?"

"Allie, I'm serious."

"Why not?"

"You listen in History of Magic, don't you? You know what happened to Remus Lupin, Teddy's dad. He was poor, jobless and dead in the end for being a werewolf."

"You're wrong," countered Alice. "He didn't die because he was a werewolf. He died because he was fighting for people like your dad and Teddy to have lives."

"You're right, you're right—of course you are, you Ravenclaw," said James. "But still. Getting a whole race of creatures who've been mistrusted for centuries is a lot harder than you think; it's not something that can be fixed immediately by making Shacklebolt Minister."

"And?"

"The Ministry say they've fixed all the laws that were against werewolves. But it's not that easy. There are so many people who refuse to give werewolves jobs, whether they believe Remus Lupin was a hero or not. And what about me, Allie? If people know I'm a werewolf, I could lose everything."

James was right. The Ministry couldn't amend all laws in such a short amount of time. After all, werewolves had been such a hated race for such a long time, and to suddenly give them jobs, freedom, the same rights as wizards? It had to be a longer process; there was no way everything was given to them just because of Shacklebolt. And if James came out as a werewolf to everyone...what would happen? Not only would he be at risk of being kicked out of Hogwarts for lying or not warning the Hogwarts staff or something, but he'd be scarred for the rest of his life. There'd be a label on him. Not The Boy Who Lived like his father; he'd be The Boy Who Was Turned.

Although Alice didn't want to admit it in fear of it going to his head, he was exceedingly intelligent academically without even trying, a Quidditch star and soon-to-be Head Boy. Teachers always said that if he "got his act together" (meaning stopped pranking and playing around with girls), he'd be a force to be reckoned with. He'd have the potential to do great, great things. Maybe even greater than his dad, Harry Potter's, accomplishments—and that meant a lot, considering Harry Potter was on a Chocolate Frog Card. If it came out that he was a werewolf, he might lose all of that.

"You're right: you could be in trouble if somebody found out you were a werewolf and reported you," said Alice. "And that's why I'm not going to tell anyone."

James sighed in relief. "Thank you."

"But there's one thing you're wrong about."

"Leave it to the Ravenclaw to tell you something you're wrong about," James muttered under his breath, still smirking.

To James's surprise, Alice leaned into him, their faces only inches apart. "You could never lose everything," she breathed, "because you'd have me."

Slowly, a sly smirk came across James's face. "Are you flirting with me, Longbottom?" he purred.

"You're the one with your shirt off."

James chuckled, that godforsaken smirk still on his face. "I suppose you're right."

Alice looked into his eyes—the greens, golds and browns swirling like that of the sunset she'd seen before. "Does that mean you're flirting with  _me_ , Potter?"

James narrowed his eyes cheekily at the taunt. "Hmmm," he murmured absentmindedly, staring at her lips.

"You're so wasted," Alice grumbled, realising where his eyes were now. Her face went pinker, if possible—a trait she inherited from her mum.

"So are you," James murmured quietly, and Alice swore he was about to kiss her. But he didn't, his brows knitting together in that cute way when he was confused. "Hey, since I told you something, you should tell me something."

"Like what?" sighed Alice, feeling petty for the sulk on her face.

James paused. "Did you ever like Zabini?" he asked seriously.

"In the beginning."

"Do you still like him?"

"What?"

"Now. Later on," James repeated slowly, turning his head to the side to show the sincerity in his eyes. "Do you?"

Alice felt like mush just looking at the way he looked at her. "I suppose I— _bah_!"

James raised a brow. "Bah?" he asked cheekily.

You might wonder what propelled Alice to emit sheep noises. The dark-gold-haired girl looked up, only for another raindrop to splash her right in the face; this time she silenced the sheep noises. Though that didn't stop another raindrop and another and another from splashing against them, until a shower of water started to pour down from the sky's dark ceiling, bleeding through the stars and breaching the tranquil post-party atmosphere of the party. "Sky's pissin'!" some guy yelled from the front of the house, earning him some vicious laughter from many who were outside—this was most of the people from the party. They started to run, pulling their wands out and shouting their incantations over the sound of the thundering sky.

James grumbled what looked to be a swear. Without throwing his shirt back on, he took Alice's hand and bolted towards the house. Everybody had already gone, including Nora, who Alice saw kiss Christian McLaggen, the Beater, before he casted a spell and they vanished. Alice was trying to catch up to James—but with her shameful physical abilities, she tripped over and landed face-flat in the sand. James, however, laughed only slightly and pulled her onto his shoulders.

He shoved the door open and Alice hopped off his back. Relief flooded through the two of them as they fled from the rain, standing in either side of the doorway and panting. Alice was half-wheezing out of amusement as she bent over, trying to catch her breath from the way they ran into the house. 

"Why are you out-of-breath? I'm the one that carried you over here."

"I'm the one that had to face your awful people-carrying skills. Stop jumping up and down every time you run. It's like being seasick," Alice said sarcastically.

There was a pause as Alice bent down further.

"Awfully sorry, Your Highness," muttered James lowly, in a voice that was neither serious nor ecstatic. It was...sultry.

When Alice looked up, she briefly saw James flip his eyes away from her and guilt sweep through them as though he'd looked at something he wasn't supposed to. She was still breathing pretty heavily, but she stood up, noticing the position they were in. The vestibule they were standing in was particularly narrow, thanks to the small door, pushing their bodies especially close to each other as they stood on either side.

The house was silent and secluded, apart from the muffled sound of the rain bashing against the roof. But as they stared at each other, the house, the outside, everywhere seemed to become slower and quieter. All Alice could hear now was the sound of each other—the way they breathed so closely, so loudly, so desperately, as though it would be the last time for the while.

Alice's eyes trailed down his lustful eyes to his striking jawline to the muscles lining his bare chest. She couldn't trust herself to look any lower.

Apparently James trusted himself, though, as he brought his eyes all over Alice's body, clearly hungry with desire. Desire that Alice would reciprocate any moment if—

The rain thundered, forces urging the wind. There was the sound of a glass bottle smashing against the floor, the window still open, as Alice was forced against James's chest in response.

Alice spluttered, "Sorry about th—"

James smashed his lips hungrily onto hers. He was smirking into her mouth, the arrogant bastard, as though he was leading her on the entire time with that question,  _trying_  to drive her insane. Though surprised for the first millisecond, Alice reciprocated, kissing him back just as hard, tasting the Firewhisky on his lips.

The kiss led to another one and another one and another—until Alice had started to move James down one of the halls where she was sure there'd be a place for them to take this. James seemed to understand, wrapping his arms around her waist and pushing her into a nearby bedroom. As they'd predicted, it was free.

James hoisted Alice up by her butt and let her fall onto the bed, James putting a leg in-between her spread ones. They passionately moved their lips to the same beat, pushing against each other as though craving more. Alice had tossed her jacked away, exposing her bare shoulders. James trailed kisses down her neck, sucking on certain spots, and groaned huskily when she palmed parts of him she wasn't supposed to. Then he was touching her, running his hands down her from her back to her breasts and lower and lower and—

Alice gasped. She couldn't take it anymore. From the way he grunted when she brushed her hands over him to the face he made when he was pleasing her, she knew she needed him.

She started to undo his belt. James didn't complain, bringing his lips to her mouth again. 

Soon enough, neither of them would be cold—even as clothing started to disappear and all they had for warmth was each other. And, oh boy, was it  _hot_.

 

Though the morning would be the start of more trouble than they could've expected.


	3. What a Waste of a Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s animum dulcedine quoniam in mane post diripio,” murmured James from the other side of the door.
> 
> Alice half-glared towards the door, slightly amused. “Do you have that memorised for every girl you have a one-night-stand with?”

 

Alice woke up to a massive headache.

Splitting her brown eyes open as best she could, she noticed the room she was in. It wasn’t hers, clearly. Seashell-plastered, pink walls, family pictures with the whole Weasley family—

Oh, bloody hell.

This was previous Head Girl Victoire Weasley's room.

Alice bolted out of bed, sitting up now and her eyes wide open. She looked to her side.

There he was, James Sirius Potter, his black hair dishevelled and his tanned chest bare. He was sleeping soundly facing Alice, his head nuzzled in his pillow and his jawline straightened. Just from the muscles in his arms, Alice could tell, it must’ve been a great nigh—

_No._

Alice wiped her eyes again, shaking her head to get the thoughts out. She had to focus.

There was a clock on the wall, lined with seashells.  _Too early_ , it read. What time was it? Five, six, seven, eight?

All of a sudden, her eyes widened.

_Dad._

He’d expected her home with Nora around midnight, trusting her not to drink—and especially not to have sex with his godson’s older brother.

Alice swore for the first time in a while.

Composing herself as best she could, Alice unravelled herself from the bed sheets and scavenged for her clothes. It must’ve been a crazy night, seeing as her clothes were literally all over the room. She tried not to blush when she found her underwear hanging on the coatrack just next to the door, changing into her clothes gently and without creaking the floors.

“Awake already?” asked James, his voice hoarse. He ran a hand through his hair, before cracking a bold smirk. "How was last night?"

“It was a waste of a night."

"So you'd prefer if I left you out there in that thunderstorm?"

Alice scowled. "I hate you."

"Oh, is that so? Then how come you—"

"James, please."

“Let me guess, Ravenclaw, you regret it?”

“What we did was irrational, reckless. I don’t even properly know you.”

“You’ve known me since we were—”

“I don’t know you  _anymore_.”

James looked at her for a long time. “You know things about me that nobody else does.”

“So do you,” she said. “But it was one night, James.  _A few things_ that we said to each other.” James scoffed at this, though Alice continued. “That’s not going to suddenly fix our friendship—or whatever this is.”

“No, but it does change things,” said James. “Everything I said last night, I meant it, Allie. Even if you don’t want to be sex buddies or whatever you _think_ I want, I kind of need to be able to trust you."

"Why? You think I'll tell everyone about what you really are?"

James seemed irritated by the way she'd worded it, narrowing his eyes. "You, Miss Ravenclaw Kiss-Arse, might just do that."

Alice narrowed her eyes back. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have told me.”

“Then maybe you shouldn't have asked." 

"Maybe we shouldn't have spoken in the first place."

James and Alice glared at each other.

“So you’d rather forget about this, right?” scoffed James. "About everything?"

Alice found her heels, wringing them round her wrists. "You're not my friend anymore, James. Last night—it was all the heat of a moment."

“I guess it was."

"Why should I need to remember it?"

"Because things were said. Because you know something about me and I know something about you."

"You don't know anything about me."

"I know what you're like in bed," said James. Alice sent him another glare. Then softer, James said, "Look, Alice, I don't want us to hate each other. Don't run away from this."

"I’m not a Gryffindor. I'm allowed to run away from my problems."

James scoffed. “I’m a problem to you?”

“With a capital P,” said Alice. “Last night was so reckless that I wasn’t thinking about—”

Alice’s burnt-brown eyes widened. Last night, she hadn’t used the spell.  _The_ spell—yes, the one for birth control?

She hadn’t used it since her and Zabini broke up. Merlin, she was so used to casting the spell all the time and assuming she was on it that she’d completely forgot. Oh, Merlin, shit, shit, shit—

“What’s wrong?” murmured James.

Alice tried to remain calm. “Where’s the bathroom?” she asked, though the words came out more high-pitched than she anticipated.

James seemed to sense her distress as he got up swiftly from the bed, thankfully wearing shorts, and peeled the door open. He glanced out for a moment, trying to figure out if anyone was there.

No noise. Nothing.

James laced his fingers with hers and pulled her out. They tiptoed their way into a door down the end of the hall. Alice kept herself from reddening at the contact—after all, she’d done a lot more with him the night before.

Thankfully, the bathroom was close, and Alice raced in without making a sound. James stood in the doorway for a moment, looking slightly worried at her in the mirror, before realising his reluctance and closing the door for her.

Turning around, Alice met her reflection in the mirror. There was a spell for the morning after but she’d never casted it before—she’d never had to, with the birth control spell she’d consistently casted.  _The After Spell_. What was it again?

Alice bit her lip, looking down at her feet, her eyes closed, as she pried open her brain to come up with the spell.

“It’s  _animum dulcedine quoniam in mane post diripio_ ,” murmured James from the other side of the door.

Alice half-glared towards the door, slightly amused. “Do you have that memorised for every girl you have a one-night-stand with?”

“It's certainly more gentlemanly than wearing a condom,” James murmured, sarcasm dripping off every word.

Alice was too annoyed to smile at the joke. “ _Animum dulcedine quoniam in mane post diripio,_ ” she said into the mirror as she usually would when she was on the birth control spell. When the spell was casted, she suddenly felt less bloated; it had worked. She sighed in relief.

She opened the door to find James leaning onto the wall, looking down at her. “You alright?” he asked, his voice low.

“Brilliant. Have you got Floo Powder?"

"I can Apparate us."

"I don't need you to take me home." 

"Let's not hate each other."

"Too late."

Alice pulled her eyes away from him and strode into the living room. She was surrounded by empty bottles of Firewhisky and various wrappers which littered the room. The tray of mostly uneaten Chocoballs sat in the centre of the kitchen counter—apart from the few that Alice had taken the night before. She must’ve been the only one that didn’t know the effect those things had on the system.

Her eyes searching the room, she found the fireplace. Now where was the Floo Powder?

Worldlessly, a hand carrying a pot full of powder stuck out to her. It was James's hand.

Alice looked up at him briefly before taking a fistful and saying "The Leaky Cauldron" as clearly as she could. Then she was transported away home, where punishment must have been waiting for her.

 

 ⇊-⇊-⇊

 

The Leaky Cauldron was louder in the evening, with professors and wizards of all sorts around. And with the landlady gone, business got harder and harder to keep up with. Especially when Alice's father, Neville Longbottom, couldn't cook or waiter to save his clumsy life and already had a job as a professor at Hogwarts. Instead, Alice had to do all the bustling around as the only waitress.

"So how long are you being locked in here for?" asked Nora from her seat, looking up at Alice.

Alice set down the tea she'd ordered onto the table. "Until the end of summer."

"Never thought Professor Longbottom could be so strict."

Alice glanced at her father who was talking to one of their usual customers. "Well, I kind of deserve it."

"I still can't believe you slept with James Sirius Potter."

Alice looked back at Nora with a scowl. "Neither can I." 

Nora took a sip of the tea. "And next year the both of you are going to be Head Boy and Girl."

"I know."

"So you'll have to work besides each other. A guy you slept with. A guy you hate."

"I'm aware, Nora."

"Oh, what a drama! Now that's better than any of those books you read."

Alice shook her head. "Do you think people know?"

"About James and you sleeping together?"

Alice nodded.

"Some of the less drunk people say they saw you being piggy-backed by James into Shell Cottage so...maybe," Nora said carefully, seeing the look on Alice's face. "But then it would just be a rumour," she added.

"People still believe rumours," Alice muttered, plopping herself down next to Nora and resting her head on the table.

"You look tired," remarked her friend, stroking her hair.

Alice turned her head to the side so her cheek lay flat against the wooden table. "I am."

"How long have you been working?"

"Since lunchtime."

Nora took another sip of her tea, checking her watch. "Alice, it's nine at night. Can't you get somebody else to work?"

Alice shook her head. "It's all part of being grounded," she explained.

"What about when you're not grounded anymore?" asked Nora quietly.

"Dad still isn't sure what he wants to do with The Leaky now that Mum's gone. If we sell it, I lose everything my Mum loved. If we keep it, I'll be doing this everyday until I move out."

"What about when school starts? Nobody will be here to look after the place."

"Fleur Weasley wants to take over. Apparently she can cook and wants to put French food on the menu."

"Sounds...interesting. A pub with French food."

"'Interesting,'" said Alice. "That's a humble way of putting it."

Nora fell quiet for a moment.

"Have you spoken to James since?"

"No," Alice said, "nor do I want to."

Nora smirked slightly. "School is going to be fun this year."

"Fun for you. You're only going to be spectating everything wrong with my life."

"Everything wrong with your life?" scoffed Nora. "Come on, Alice, you slept with the most popular guy at school, in the entirety of the wizarding world, you're Head Girl, Prefect, you've got amazing grades and a great dad."

There seemed to be slight jealousy laced in Nora's tone.

Alice paused for a moment, only looking at the girl. "You're right. It won't all be bad. Sorry for sounding spoilt." The look on Nora's face seemed to demand an apology from her.

"Darling Miss Longbottom, could I order something, please?"

"Alice! Table Five, please!"

Alice burst from the seat, put on a false smile and shouted, "Coming, sir!" Then she turned to Nora and said, "I'll talk to you later?"

Nora huffed, before gathering her things. She took one final swig of her cup of tea, said "Sure" and left.

 

 ⇊-⇊-⇊

 

A month later, Nora still hadn't shown up at The Leaky Cauldron nor did anyone else remotely Alice's age.

But Fleur Weasley did.

When the pretentious French witch walked in, she sniffed the air with her undeniably pretty nose and showed a look of disgust. She ran her eyes over the tables, the food especially, and crinkled her nose in disgust further. Then she walked into the kitchen, muttered something that sounded rude in French and started to give the chef some notes--from the types of flowers on the tables to the colour of the walls to the seasonings on the food.

If Neville was bothered, he didn't show it.

"She's changing everything," whispered Alice to her dad, watching as Fleur bounced around the restaurant as though it was already her own.

"She's being creative," explained Neville. "Re-inventing. Giving the restaurant a polish."

"The place is fine the way it is."

"Alice..."

"Yes, it's dusty and the floors are creaky but it's been this way for years. Even Tom kept it this way."

"Are we worried about what Tom would think about this or someone else?"

Alice paused, trying to ignore the comment. "It better not look like Madam Puddifoot's when we're back for Christmas."

Neville smiled and ruffled his daughter's hair as though she was still a kid. "Don't worry, sweets."

The bell above the door rang, signaling the arrival of new customers.

"Welcom—" Alice's eyes widened.

At the door was Harry and Ginny Potter.

"Harry! Lovely to see you," said Neville, rushing to the door and giving him a firm pat on the back. "And Ginny," he continued with a chuckle, giving the woman a kind hug. She reciprocated.

"Feels like ages," Harry remarked, scanning the pub. "When did we last see each other? Christmas?" His green eyes moved over to Alice, widening slightly as he smiled. "My, my, is this Alice?"

Alice smiled. "Nice to see you again, Professor Potter."

"I taught you one time at school—no need for the 'Professor.' You're my goddaughter. Do you call your dad Professor Longbottom at home?" joked Harry.

"What about Mr Potter?"

"Still too formal."

"Potter?"

"Now you sound like a bully."

"Harry Potter."

"Like a news headline."

"Harry. Just Harry."

"A little too upfront."

"Uncle Harry."

Harry smiled slyly. "That's the one." Then he gave her a hug.

As soon as Harry pulled away, Ginny wrapped Alice into a hug as well. "Allie, dear," the ginger woman started, putting a hand on her hip as she scanned her. "Aren't you growing up gorgeous?" Her bright brown eyes sparkled.

"Thank you, Mrs Potter."

"It's Aunt Ginny, even though I'm not your godmother." Ginny stuck her tongue out to Neville, who blushed, embarrassed, in response.

"Well, you know, Luna's always been—"

"Oh, I'm aware, Neville," interrupted Ginny, sending a wink his way.

Neville grinned. "You know it's never been like _that._ "

"I know, I know." Ginny turned back to Alice. "I hear McGonagall's told you she's making you Head Girl. Have you got the letter yet?"

"Not yet."

Ginny sighed. "Can't imagine how proud you must be of her, Neville. If any of our kids were made Head Boy or Girl..."

Alice turned to her, suddenly confused. James hadn't told his parents that he would be Head Boy. Why?

It was then that Pixie, Alice and her dad's elderly brown owl, flew in looking as exhausted as usual. Both rarely ever got mail apart from apology cards when Alice's mum died. The owl perched on the windowsill right next to Alice and she took the envelope from its mouth.

"Is this it?" giggled Ginny, to which Harry rolled his eyes before shushing her, amused. Neville stared too at the letter with anticipation. In fact, everyone in The Leaky Cauldron seemed to stop speaking.

Alice turned the letter over to see it was from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"Read it out loud, sweets."

Alice nodded.

" _Dear Miss Longbottom,_

_It is with deepest pleasure that I may announce you've been chosen as next year's Head Girl. As you may know, only one Head Girl is elected in her seventh year and she is to work alongside the new Head Boy to lead the prefects and student body to further excellence. This is a duty requiring responsibility, leadership, diligence and intelligence—all of which you have shown throughout your time at Hogwarts as prefect, student and more._

_Congratulations, Miss Longbottom._

_Wishing you well,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_."

There was a moment of extended silence in the room.

Then there was a clap and another clap and another and her dad had wrapped her into a hug and so many more. Ginny squealed in excitement as Harry said, "That's my goddaughter!" Oh, he had a bigger surprise coming for him when he got him to see James. Come to think of it, if Alice had just been sent her letter, James must have been too.

Alice peered out of the window only to see Blinky, a pretty screech owl resembling James's, dart at jet speed past.

She was interrupted by a series of "Congratulations!" coming from the people in The Leaky Cauldron as they pulled her into hugs. Even Fleur Weasley kissed her on the cheek. That's when Alice seemed to realise how she knew everyone in the room. She'd served them all, passed them tea and beer and big steak-and-kidney pies. And everyone in there seemed to know who she was too.

The worst part of her life in that moment didn't seem so bad after all.

She hoped the coming year would be the same.

 

 

 


End file.
